new south
dear betsy ross, i love you starry eyed and true
and that grand old flag myth-covered across your
american legs, go on soldier and beat your drum,
go on out in the fields and sing true new england,
for i think of you true blue in the new south way down
at the end of appalachia, where we make our own
myths below the shadow of the stone mountain,
where we carve once-great old horsemen like
the holiest of holies, where tobacco’d soil
stains your clothes deep, 100% cotton for sure,
what say you betsy ross, give us your coins,
lead that great journey west across those
mississippi sticks, lead us swimming through
the mouth of america, so when we find ourselves
on new land, we will forget, forget, forget.
-
poetrespasser liked this
-
tuitesw liked this
-
everythingiscopacetic liked this
-
jadamwhite posted this
